Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [534]
There was no sign of Elend’s horse. So he kept a wary eye on the soldiers, pulling Jastes toward the invisible line between the human camp and the koloss one. Elend turned as he reached the perimeter, then pushed Jastes back toward his men. They caught him, one pulling out a bandage for the arm. Others made moves as if to chase Elend, but they paused, hesitant.
Elend had crossed the line into the koloss camp. He stood quietly, watching the pathetic group of young soldiers, Jastes at their center. Even as they ministered to him, Elend could see the look in Jastes’s eyes. Hatred. He wouldn’t retreat. The man Elend had known was dead, replaced by this product of a new world that didn’t kindly regard philosophers and idealists.
Elend turned away, walking among the koloss. A group of them quickly approached. The same one as before? He couldn’t tell for certain.
“Take me out,” Elend commanded, meeting the eyes of the largest koloss in the team. Either Elend seemed more commanding now, or this koloss was more easily cowed, for there was no argument. The creature simply nodded and began to shuffle out of the camp, his team surrounding Elend.
This trip was a waste, Elend thought with frustration. All I did was antagonize Jastes. I risked my life for nothing.
If only I could find out what was in those pouches!
He eyed the group of koloss around him. It was a typical group, ranging in size from five feet to one ten-foot monstrosity. They walked along with slumped, unengaged postures….
Elend still had his knife out.
This is stupid, he thought. For some reason, that didn’t stop him from choosing the smallest koloss in the group, taking a deep breath, and attacking.
The rest of the koloss paused to watch. The creature Elend had chosen spun—but in the wrong direction. It turned to face its companion koloss, the one nearest to it in size, as Elend tackled it, ramming the knife into its back.
Even at five feet with a small build, the koloss was incredibly strong. It tossed Elend off, bellowing in pain. Elend, however, managed to keep hold of his dagger.
Can’t let it get out that sword, he thought, scrambling to his feet and ramming his knife into the creature’s thigh. The koloss dropped again, punching at Elend with one arm, fingers reaching for its sword with the other. Elend took the punch to the chest, and fell back to the sooty ground.
He groaned, gasping. The koloss pulled out its sword, but had trouble standing. Both knife wounds bled stark red blood; the liquid seemed brighter, more reflective, than that of a human, but that might have just been a contrast with the deep blue skin.
The koloss finally managed to gain its feet, and Elend realized his mistake. He’d let the adrenaline of his confrontation with Jastes—his frustration at his inability to stop the armies—drive him. He’d sparred a lot lately, but he was in no position to take a koloss.
But it was far too late to worry about that now.
Elend rolled out of the way as a thick, clublike sword smashed to the ground beside him. Instincts overrode terror, and he mostly managed to avoid the backswing. It took him a bit in the side, spraying a patch of blood across his once white uniform, but he barely even felt the cut.
Only one way to win a knife fight against a guy with a sword… Elend thought, gripping his knife. The thought, oddly, hadn’t come from one of his trainers, or even from Vin. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but he trusted it.
Close in tight as fast as possible, and kill quickly.
And Elend attacked. The koloss swung as well. Elend could see the attack, but couldn’t do anything about it. He could only throw himself forward, knife raised, teeth clenched.
He rammed his knife into the koloss’s eye, barely managing to get inside the creature’s reach. Even so, the hilt of the sword hit him in the stomach.
Both dropped.
Elend groaned quietly, slowly becoming aware of the hard, ash-packed earth and weeds eaten down